


Tobira no Mukou e - Drabble Collection

by zosimos (trismegistus)



Series: Tobira no Mukou e [20]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist (Anime 2003)
Genre: Canon Continuation, M/M, Major Original Character(s), Original Character-centric
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-23
Updated: 2014-08-29
Packaged: 2018-02-14 09:11:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 27
Words: 11,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2185992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trismegistus/pseuds/zosimos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Collecting all the Tobira no Mukou e shortfic/drabbles that I have posted via tumblr and Typetrigger.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. the vacuum of time

**Author's Note:**

> Each chapter is an individual fic, regardless of length. Most were part of a 2013 challenge to 'write a fic a day.'

The water from the tap in the washroom ran cold but clear. Nicholas Elric splashed it on his face and exhaled, trying once again to gather in the reins of his temper even as the cold water dripped down the collar of his shirt. He braced both hands on the white porcelain and stared down into the bowl of the sink, watching the water swirl around the drain before vanishing into the pipes below. The washroom was quiet, even now the only sound was the running water.  
  
The door to the washroom slammed open, the knob of the door hitting the wall like a gunshot. Nicholas jumped despite himself, his automail hand gripping the sink so tight he imagined he felt the porcelain crack. It was not Mustang standing there in the door like he had anticipated - instead, it was Talvi, her eyes narrowed and jaw set. Nicholas licked his lips and opened his mouth to smart off, this was the men’s washroom, after all - but Talvi beat him to the punch, her accent thick in her anger. “What the hell was that, Elric!?”  
  
Nicholas bit his lip, glared at her, and then turned his gaze back on the still-running water. He had not had time to think on it, to formulate his response - Nicholas had always, always espoused the civilian role, the polite discourse. Even if he was a smug dick about it, he always turned words to his favor. It was not like him to lead with fists first - especially when the person he had hauled off to punch outranked his boss. “He deserved it,” Nicholas said, his voice so dry it almost cracked.  
  
What made it all the worse was that the man had deserved it. Despite that, you did not just go around punching men in the top military brass full-on in the mouth. It was only a last-second judgement call that meant Nicholas did not lead with his automail fist and that the man still had all of his teeth - and the fact that the Major General was likely still so stunned was the only reason the military police were not two seconds behind Talvi. Nicholas took a deep breath and turned off the tap, the last of the water swirling away down the drain.  
  
"We all know he deserved it," Talvi had not quite moved her tone into shouting but the words were hovering there. "That was not your call to make! What were you thinking, he could have you discharged, that’s gross insubordination -"  
  
"I’m not in the military," Nicholas muttered sulkily.  
  
Talvi stopped her tirade and eyed him darkly. “They can still discharge you. You work for the military, even if you are not an enlisted soldier. You can still be arrested.”  
  
"Mustang won’t let that happen." He looked up into the mirror, his blond bangs lay lank against his face. He could still hear the condescension in the man’s voice as he addressed Mustang. It was not that he had called Nicholas a faggot - he had heard that term and then some in the past few years, but they were only words, and words that he could ignore. It was the utter loathing in his eyes when he turned to look at Talvi, her ancestry evident on her features, and called her a word that made every ounce of Nicholas’s blood boil.  
  
Her hand on his flesh shoulder, tensed through his shirt, surprised even him. “I have been called much worse, in my time,” she said softly. “The general knows my worth, and that is all that matters to me.”  
  
"You shouldn’t have to put up with that," Nicholas said, and for the first time felt helpless. He did not have the built in prejudice of the entire Amestrian army when it came to Ishbal, if anything her white hair and red eyes made her gorgeous and fascinating to him. It had been years since the conflict, and Talvi was not even a full-blooded Ishbalian, and yet because she had the features her life was in danger even from her own military. "No one should."  
  
He looked up into the mirror, saw Talvi’s hand on his shoulder and his own hair, brightly blonde, a color unlike anyone else’s he had ever seen - and gold eyes, unnatural back home and still unnatural here. He was an outsider as much as she was; the difference was that his alien features were acceptable, and hers were not. He sighed, deeply, and shrugged her hand off of his shoulder. “I’m not sorry,” he said finally. “The bastard had it coming.”  
  
"No, but you should be sorry for all the trouble you have caused General Mustang," Talvi said shortly. "This will be a difficult situation to extract from. It will cause a lot of problems."

* * *

General Roy Mustang sat at his desk, his head in one hand. The sunlight that slanted through the half-drawn window shade glinted off of the gray in his hair, and he was tapping one finger against the blotter on his desk. He looked up when Nicholas opened the door to his office.  
  
It was hard to say that Nicholas looked that much like his grandfather (or was it great-grandfather? Roy had never pressed, the fact that time flowed differently between that world that Fullmetal had vanished to and here was something he had never been able to wrap his head around) any longer. His hair fell in a similar manner, the bangs cut a little too similarly, but his jaw was squarer and his shoulders broad. Despite his strong profile he was folded in on himself, slightly defeated, as he skulked into the office resembling more of a kicked dog than a special agent.  
  
Roy waited in silence as Nicholas arranged himself. He had had the privilege of watching both Nicholas and Takeo mature from hardheaded, reckless teenagers into driven, impassioned adults and had to say that he was thoroughly impressed with both of them. Takeo had become a State Alchemist, a legitimately good one, and while Nicholas had taken a pass from alchemy instruction, he was a hardy, down-to-earth and frighteningly clever man. He made an excellent operative, and it was a shame that he refused to enlist because he would have made an impressive soldier. “I’m not going to apologize,” he started off, and Roy sighed to himself. Despite all of his positive attributes, at heart Nicholas was still an Elric, stubborn as mules, the lot of them. “I’m not,” he said, catching Roy’s sigh and his eyes going narrow. Roy lifted his head from his hand and folded his hands on the blotter before him. “The Major General deserved it, every last bit of it. I’m not one bit sorry I cold-cocked him. But.”  
  
Nicholas took a deep breath. “But, I’ll tender my resignation as a special agent to the garrison,” he said after a long moment. “I can’t endanger your mission, or what you are trying to do by dint of my reckless behavior.  
  
There was a long silence, pregnant with the possibilities. Roy had had decades to perfect his poker face, this did not even cause an eyebrow twitch. Nicholas tended to surprise him, at every given turn - even if his initial, off-the-cuff response reminded him of a fiery alchemist clad all in red, he could guarantee with one hundred percent certainty that Fullmetal would have never come sulking back this quickly with an apology, even if his brother had made him. “I will not accept your resignation,” Roy said. “And while I agree that the Major General could use several lessons in both diplomacy and timing, unfortunately you will have to apologize to him.”  
  
"He’s a dick," Nicholas said.  
  
"Of that I am well aware," Roy said. His headache had lessened slightly, and in a month this would be a funny anecdote, but at the moment the Major General was still in a swoon, secured back in his own office and certain that Nicholas had tried to kill him with his automail. Fortunately for everyone involved, the General’s aide had said, his lips pressed into a tight, thin line, that there was obviously no intent to assassinate and had Nicholas actually made contact with his automail, the Major General likely would be waking up in a week in a hospital bed, not nursing a broken nose and wailing like a sick kitten. "You will still have to apologize. In person, if the General prefers."  
  
It was as if Nicholas had unfolded, unpacked himself from that curled-in specimen and now stood at his full height. “Yes, sir.”  
  
Now it was Roy’s turn to smile, even if it was a thin smile. “Tell Talvi to take the rest of the day off. You too, but-” he added, as Nicholas was about to turn away. “Tell that boyfriend of yours to stop sending flowers to the office. It’s making some of the others jealous.”  
  
Nicholas paused, and then smiled. “Yes, sir.”


	2. Terror in the Night

It was not that Nicholas was afraid of trains, per se - he had grown up around them in their modern form, bullet trains and elevated subways, public transportation at its finest (and occasionally worst). Even graduating backwards, to old steam engines and rickety carriage cars, he had never actually feared them. But something had changed, and Nicholas sat on the hard wooden bench, ramrod straight, his hands in fists braced on his knees as Takeo sprawled across from him, lost in the wonders of a good book.

The ball bearings in his right hand clicked as Nick tightened his fist and fought gamely against the panic that threatened to overwhelm him. It had been two years since that, he had been on many more trains since then, trains in worse condition than this passenger car … he had had plenty of time to quell this tightness in his chest, this thing of nightmares. Nicholas stared at his fists on his knees - one hand warm flesh, the other cold, reflective steel - braced on casual trousers of dark brown. He was afraid to even look at Takeo, lest the terror creep onto his face and merit explanation. 

He had never told Takeo.

Nicholas closed his eyes and focused on his breathing. One of the many exercises that Winry had given him, in the recovery period from the initial automail surgery, was a simple breathing exercise. It was used to calm the mind and regulate pain, but it also helped him focus. When he opened his eyes again he felt a little better, that knot in his chest had loosened, and he no longer felt like he was going to redecorate the floor with his lunch. He raised his eyes to see Takeo staring at him over the top of his book, dark eyes worried. “You okay, man? You look a little pale.”

"Lunch didn’t agree with me," It was only a little lie, Nicholas reasoned. He was nauseous, but not because of lunch. "And then you’re sitting there with your nose jammed in a book. I don’t know how you read on the train, you make me carsick just watching you."

Takeo shoved his glasses up with his middle finger, and Nicholas managed a wan smile. “Unlike some people I could mention, I have to keep up my studies if I want to get certified in fire alchemy,” he said haughtily. 

"Dude, you’re still on that?" Nicholas sat back, the pressure in his head easing. "I thought Mustang was going to have kittens when you mentioned that was your area of focus."

Takeo flushed, pleased at the roundabout compliment. “He’s just worried that someone younger and sexier is going to come around and steal all his glory.”

Nicholas could not help the guffaw, it escaped before he could choke it down. Takeo glared at him in response. “Just for that, as soon as I figure out how, I am setting your hair on fire.”

It felt good to laugh, it felt like it had been far too long since he had had the chance. Nicholas wiped away the tears of mirth as Takeo sulked behind his volume of arcane alchemic lore. “You haven’t figured out how,” Nicholas snickered. “It’s not, that’s so basic even I know it, and I don’t know the first fuckin’ thing about alchemy-“

"Bullshit," Takeo snapped at him. "I’ve seen you transmute."

Nicholas waved his hand in the air. “That’s, that-” It was harder to lie about this, but he could never get it across to Takeo that he did not want that ability. His nightmares, when they were not full of fire and black diesel smoke and twisted wreckage, had been full of all of those violet eyes and grasping, demanding hands. He had been turned inside out, his head emptied out and refilled and he had come through it feeling like he had been taken apart and put together backwards, with missing pieces here and there and extra bits stuck in where they did not fit. He grew quiet, and Takeo stared at him over the frames of his glasses. “That’s different, Takeo.”

He still did not understand why it had happened to him and not Takeo. Takeo, who had been studying alchemy ever since Nicholas had known him, who was the biggest nerd Nicholas knew. Nicholas hated how the expectation was that because he was an Elric, he was a prodigy with alchemy, that he would flit around and be this miraculous alchemist that would be the exclusive property of the military, a weapon at their disposal. He was none of those things, no matter what nonsense the Gate had filled his head with. The ability to transmute matter did not make him an alchemist.

"I don’t get you," Takeo said finally. "I really don’t."

"It’s okay," Nicholas said. "I get your mom."

* * *

Nick rubbed his forehead ruefully as they disembarked the train. “Was it really necessary for you to wing your book at me?” he said for the fifth time, following Takeo down the crowded train platform. “That thing has wicked corners on the cover.”

Takeo glared at him, and Nicholas grinned. This was the way things were supposed to be. He stopped, and Takeo kept walking, almost immediately absorbed by the crowd in the train station. From his position Nicholas could see the clock hanging on the post, just in time to hear the evening chimes. An unexpected shiver ran down his spine but he shook it off quickly. He had buried that watch, burned and warped by the fire, stopped forever with the hands affixed at the moment of the crash. They were both alive, and as whole as they could be. Nicholas made a fist with his automail hand and looked down at it, before letting the grin flit across his face. 

"Bitch!" he heard Takeo shout from near the exit. "Keep up, or I’m leaving you here!"

"Freak!" Nicholas shouted in return, and kept moving through the crowds.


	3. black ice

Kobayashi Takeo shoved his hands in his pockets and buried his nose in his scarf, muttering sourly under his breath. He had hoped - vainly, it seemed - that the furious showers of snow would have slackened somewhat in the hours since the work day started. There was to be little respite - the snow had not let up in slightest, piling over the remains of hardened, mostly-melted snowdrifts from the previous accumulation. Takeo stood indecisively in the doorway, out of the way of the wind, but blocking the entrance to the repository. Not that many people would be out and about doing research in THIS weather, most of the soldiers on duty were currently working to dig the city out of its snowed-in state.

He did not like snow, or winter at all for that matter. He did not have as valid a reason to dislike the season as Nick, as he did not have a heavy metal arm with joints that were susceptible to the changes in air pressure, but all the same he hated the cold, and the wet, and the dark.

Takeo sighed, and wished he had thought ahead enough to wear a hat to work.

* * *

Nicholas Elric looked up when Takeo entered the office, his hair a sodden mess with flecks of white snow melting amid the dark locks. “I thought you were a flame alchemist,” he snorted, as Takeo unwound the scarf from his neck and hung it on the coat rack. 

Takeo scowled at Nicholas, running both his hands through his hair and shaking it out like a wet dog. “I thought you weren’t coming in today. You were whining about all the paperwork, and with General Mustang gone for the week I was certain you were going to stay in bed until the boss got back.”

"Eh, we’re still working the Williamson case," Nicholas said. "It’d be nice to put a bow on it and shove it into a drawer somewhere and forget about it." He looked down at the papers he had spread across his desk, and Takeo could see they were the photographs taken of the man’s basement. Nicholas sighed and put his right hand in his hair, the fluorescence reflecting off of the automail. "There are some sick fucks in this world," he said.

"There were a lot of sick fucks in our world too," Takeo reminded him.

"Yeah, but I’m the one who was supposed to worry about keeping you from being too naively idealistic about this place," Nick sat back in his chair. "It’s just discouraging, is all."


	4. devastating explosion

Takeo did not anticipate the punch.

Nicholas had always been bulkier than his friend - not by much, but he had more muscle than Takeo, having grown up playing sports. He punched lefty, now - it was a conscious decision, because a full-on punch from his right hand could kill someone. He had had to retrain his very way of fighting over the years, but had it back down to muscle memory. Which was fortunate, because Takeo completely missed the warning sighs, and took the left hook hard.

There was a loud clatter as Takeo hit the ground, too stunned to even brace for the fall. Nick’s knuckles smarted, he was liable to break some bones punching Takeo full in the face like that but his anger overrode everything, even the momentary lapse in judgement. He stood there a moment more, and then let his hand fall to his side as Takeo looked up at him, eyes wide in disbelief. 

"Damn," Nicholas said, flexing his hand. "That felt good."

Takeo was up on his feet fast and came in low, catching Nick just below the waist. He had not anticipated that Takeo would retaliate, the few times in their friendship they had come to blows Takeo usually took one and stayed down. But that was then, wasn’t it? Nick grunted with effort as Takeo knocked the wind right out of him, stunning him flat on his back. He tried to gasp through bruised lungs - but Takeo had one hand tight in his shirt and the other drawn back in a fist. He didn’t even have time to draw a breath before he saw stars.

"Idiot!" Takeo hissed, blood running from both nostrils. "How are you such a fucking idiot-!"

Nicholas somehow deflected the next blow, levering his automail arm between them and then planting the palm of his false hand on Takeo’s chest, pushing him up and away. “Dammit-“

Takeo was on him again, and they rolled in the dirt. It had been years since they had scrapped in any form at all, and blood splattered in the dirt quickly. 

It had been Takeo’s idea, all of it. When the inevitable occurred and Takeo had made to close the Gate between the worlds for good, Nick had chosen to stay here, with his friend. He could have gone home to Tokyo, had a normal life (as normal as it could be, he supposed, with a false limb whose craft far exceeded the capabilities of his time), and forgotten all this nonsense. He made his choice in staying here, but then Takeo had mentioned going to work for Mustang, and Nick had thought ‘why not?’

That was probably the first mistake.

But now they were here - Takeo in the midst of studying for the State Alchemist’s exam - a case come up all at the same time - and then this. This of ALL things.

Nick had one hand on Takeo’s face, trying to force him away, blood and sweat intermingling. “Fucking MORON,” he wheezed, and heaved Takeo aside.

They both had exhausted themselves completely. Blood was tracked down the once-white collared shirt Nick had been wearing, and there were several brown spots on the blue military jacket Takeo had on. Takeo flopped over on his back beside Nicholas, dust and grime already coated thoroughly into his dress uniform. “You’re the fucking moron,” Takeo responded weakly, swiping the blood into a smear across his face.

They lay in silence for a long few minutes, the only noise their heavy breaths crystallizing in the early morning air.

Then Takeo lifted his head and weakly punched Nick in the flesh shoulder. “You could have fucking TOLD me,” he said.

Nicholas stared at the cold sky above them. “Does it really matter that much?”

"I would have stopped trying to fix you up with girls," Takeo dropped his head back to the ground and stared at the sky philosophically. 

"Are you pissed?" Nick rubbed some blood out of his eye and squinted. 

"A little bit. I would have rather learned from you than your boyfriend." Takeo sat up finally and rubbed some of the dirt out his hair. "But whatever, man. You’re my best friend. Besides, it means more chicks for me."

Nick sat up as well. “As if any girls are gonna go with you anyway.” He shoved Takeo’s shoulder companionably, and they grinned at each other. 

Maybe things would end up being okay, after all.


	5. fragmented truth

The streets were slushy with melted snow; it was warmer than it had been in weeks. “Warm” was a relative term, given the season, and despite the sunlight Nicholas Elric could feel the cold pricking at his skin, the tightening clamp of metal pressing into flesh and bone on his right shoulder. He would have to put heat compresses on it again - there had been no assurances that as the years passed the weather changes would get any easier, even with the advances in prosthetics automail was still metal sewn straight into nerves and flesh. However he would bear the pain silently, as he had for the past two years - it was a welcome pain, it made him a part of this world, and a foreigner in his own.

It was a Saturday, and technically speaking he was off duty. It was strange, working for the military. He would never have imagined it - although back in those days before, when they would take standardized tests and sit through assessments early in his education he had his designs on becoming a police officer. Protecting the weak and serving the people - it just sounded right to him. This was a fairly close match, though - granted it was a bit more specialized, but they tracked and reigned in alchemists gone off the rails, as well as cleaned up after them. Not quite the same thing, but it still had that ring of just feeling right to him. There was the added bonus that he was on the military’s payroll without having to actually enlist; he had “specialized talents” that were in high demand, per his hiring process. 

Nick smiled at the thought - by specialized talents, they meant specifically his bloodline, but that was all right. It got him a job that he was decently good at, and he got to stay close to his best friend at the same time. 

But it was a Saturday, and here he was working anyway. Nick glanced at the buildings on the street, assessing quietly. He did his best work out of uniform, of course. No one gave him a second look as he stopped in front of a fruit vendor’s stall and glanced over the produce. He could sit at home, alone, and catch up on his reading or even listen to the latest radio drama … but it was lonely in his apartment. His boyfriend, a journalist for the biggest, not-State-controlled newspaper was gone for the week covering the military skirmish on the North border and it unnerved him to sit in an empty apartment alone. He had to get out and do something useful, so surveillance it was.

The target was a middle-aged alchemist, a rotund man gone nearly bald. Nicholas paid for an apple and took a bite as he stepped away from the vendor, eyes scanning the street as he picked the alchemist from the crowd. The man had ditched his qualifications; and his research was considered highly toxic by the rest of the military. It seemed that he was more of a chemist than a true alchemist, mixing elixirs and poisons, but this world crossed a lot of things into alchemy that Nick would not consider otherwise. He wouldn’t have bothered with tailing the man if the reason that he withdrawn his research was simply due to an attack of conscience. No, his behavior had been highly irregular and he had fixated on two of the secretaries in the typing pool. That was a recipe for disaster, no matter which way you looked at it.

He watched the alchemist hurry in and out of the apothecary, and then cross the street to the bookseller. Nicholas ambled past the building and stopped well down the street, watching half over his shoulder as the man left the bookseller in an equal rush. He binned the apple core and pulled the dark red scarf up over the bottom half of his face. 

Not for the first time, he wished that he had thought to call for backup. Talvi, maybe or even Takeo. Either would have been sufficient - in years past he would have skipped over Takeo in the pursuit of someone a little more qualified to skulk around, but Takeo had changed a lot in this past year. Maybe it was the fact that he had specialized in his alchemy, and a more direct approach had taught him more self-control - or perhaps it was just that maturity had finally remembered to come around and smack him in the face. Either way, Takeo would have proven useful. But Takeo wasn’t around as much as he used to be - as a side-effect of this new found maturity, for the first time girls had finally started noticing him and passing Nick right by. Not that he was bothered by this - while he enjoyed flirting with most of them, it was somewhat tiresome to have to repeatedly deflect their continuing advances. For all the more modern notions this country had, it still did not have quite a good grasp on the concept of homosexuality.

Nick leaned against the wall as he watched the alchemist look up and down the street wildly. He was looking to ensure that he wasn’t followed - a futile effort, obviously - before he very deliberately let himself in to a door that led to the apartments above one of the many quaint shops that lined the boulevard. Nick made note of the address, and checked the time on his watch against one of the larger clocks on the street. If he could establish a pattern of behavior, especially on a time frame, he could happily lead the military back here, to arrest this sick motherfucker.


	6. the hand of fate

Nicholas Elric closed one eye and measured the distance carefully. He had to be precise in his calculations, taking in to account windspeed, and the cross-currents. Then, with his tongue stuck just a little bit out and the band stretched to full tautness, snapped the rubber band expertly.

Takeo flinched as the projectile pinged off of his temple, and then swatted the air ineffectively as he glared up at the only other person in the office. Nick had his boots up on the desk and a grin on his face as Takeo scowled deeper. “What was that for?”

"Bored," Nick proclaimed, his hand folded behind his head.

"There’s at least five reports to be filed yet," Takeo said darkly.

"Not that bored." Nick looked at the ceiling above, in which were imbedded at least five push-pins. 

Takeo shook his head. “The moment the lieutenant colonel leaves the office you become useless,” he said, and Nick snorted. 

"Hey, at least I’m not asleep at my desk," he pointed out, nodding toward the closed door that led to the General’s private office.

"Not today," Takeo muttered. "Why am I the only one who does any work around here?"

"Work smarter, not harder," Nick said, nodding his head wisely.


	7. sore throat

Nick opened his eyes when the cool cloth was laid on his forehead. He glared muzzily at Takeo, whose face was pale. “What are you still doing here?” he asked, his voice strained rasp. “I thought you were headed out on the next train back to Central.” 

"Don’t," Takeo said, and looked away. "Don’t try to talk, your voice-" 

Nick swallowed, his throat raw. It did hurt, but the soreness paled in comparison to the constant, raw stream of feedback straight through the nerves of his arm. “Tak-“ 

"Stop it!" Takeo shouted. Nick winced at the volume, and Takeo sagged in to himself, he looked almost as badly as Nick felt. "Please, Nick, just… you don’t have to do this, you know?" 

This. Barely out of the hospital, and right back into the operating room - but if he healed, if he waited for the wound to seal, it would just be all the worse when they tore it open. You had to be awake and conscious for this operation, as the technician and surgeon connected each wire directly to a nerve ending, and he had screamed his throat raw before someone had thought to shove a piece of wood between his teeth to keep him from biting his tongue clear through. 

"You shouldn’t be here, Takeo," Nick croaked, his eyes flat and dull with the pain. "Go back to Central, I’ll be fine." 

And Takeo, with his face pale and hands trembling, he had heard every agonizing instant of it. This is why Nick hadn’t wanted him here in the first place, he wanted him safely locked away in a library studying in peace. He didn’t need to bear witness to this. 

"You wouldn’t leave me behind," Takeo said, his voice somehow not shaking. "Like hell I’m leaving you."


	8. core

He seemed very small, sitting up in the hospital bed with a diminished profile. Roy Mustang sighed heavily as he closed the door behind him. He was not quite sure what he was expecting to find here, anger, exhaustion - or even just a blank, traumatized look. Instead, Nicholas Elric turned and looked at him in the doorway and said, point-blank: “I need automail.” 

"Well, I’m glad to see that you’re alive, at least," Roy said, letting the years of practice keep the emotion out of his voice. He had failed the Elric family enough in his life, he didn’t need to add another tally mark in that particular column. He looked around the room - Nick’s shadow, Takeo, was nowhere to be seen. "Where is your friend?" 

"Resting," Nick’s voice was clear, even if it was full of pain. "I need a good technician. I’m sure you know one." 

"I find it curious," Roy continued, ignoring Nick’s question. "That after the train wrecked off its tracks, witnesses said they saw a massive transmutation. Yet, there was no sign of it by the time our medics got on site. Do you know anything about that?" 

Nick did not shy from Roy’s gaze, meeting it boldly. “I’m not an alchemist,” he said sharply. “I don’t know what they saw, but it has nothing to do with either me, or Takeo.” 

"I wonder," Roy murmured. He studied the teenager, whose defiant glare called to mind memories best left buried. "Well, since you know nothing of it, I shall have to mark it down in the official report as unverified. If you recall anything else of that night, you will inform me, I hope." 

"Sure," Nick said. He rested his left hand on his bandaged shoulder. "Now are you going to help me?"


	9. family secrets

Alchemy. 

Nick hated the term, hated the thought of the matter. It was not something that was discussed in his family - his own father was a salaryman, he was brilliant at his job but he never had much time for folklore and nonsense. It was something that Nick read in passing in books, and heard about in family gatherings, the whispers passed behind hands with the slightest of titters. 

Nick didn’t believe in alchemy. He yawned when Takeo waxed poetic about the great alchemists; Hollandus, Bacon, Agrippa, Flamel - and more besides. He took bets with himself when his friend would tire of the subject, and then Takeo would visit and start talking with his great-grandfather and it would be off to the races again. He really, really needed to start keeping the two of them apart. 

And then, one day at school. Takeo pulled from his backpack a tiny crystal vial filled with a dark crimson liquid. “What the hell is that?” Nick asked, and it was all he could do to keep his eyes from rolling out of his head when Takeo responded “Dragon’s blood!” 

The transmutation circle required blood, not just his dragon’s blood but Nick’s blood as well. “I still think you’re stupid,” Nick said as he cut his palm open with a wince. “This isn’t going to work, Takeo. When it doesn’t work, I want you to forget about this craziness once and for all, it doesn’t do grandad any good to get worked up over this stuff like you have him.” 

"Fair enough," Takeo said, both hands on the chalk line he had drawn on the floor in his bedroom. "Now do it!" 

To be fair, Nick had never expected for it to WORK. Maybe there were more to those stories after all….


	10. up in smoke

It was to be expected that the General would take a vested interest in his continuing alchemical education, given Takeo’s intended focus - but he had not expected to be called into the man’s office so quickly. 

"I understand that you are studying fire alchemy," Roy Mustang said, the sunlight glinting off the graying hair at his temples. “You will cease that line of inquiry, immediately.” 

The general did not beat around the bush. Takeo bristled somewhat - had he not had this exact discussion with Nick two days ago? If Nick tattled to the general behind his back he was going to set Nick’s eyebrows on fire … as soon as he figured out how. “No, I don’t think I will.” 

Mustang’s eyebrow arched over his single eye at Takeo’s defiance. “You intend to take the State Alchemist exam using fire alchemy as your specialty. You cannot possibly be unaware at what this military uses alchemists who specialize in combat-worthy alchemy for.” 

"Of course I know," Takeo crossed his arms over his chest and tried not to sulk. It was something he had to think hard on, weighing the odds. He could specialized even without the military’s backing - but he needed the income provided by the military. He didn’t intend to live off of charity forever. "It still doesn’t change my mind." 

"Flame alchemy brings nothing but destruction and death," Mustang said quietly. "If you choose to go down that path, if this country goes to war I will not be able to protect you." 

Takeo nodded his head. “Well then, general, isn’t it your job to ensure that this country does not go off to war again?” 

"You are quite insubordinate," Mustang murmured, but there was a hint of amusement to his tone. "I am not surprised."


	11. wake up

There were times that he wondered, if it wasn’t all a dream. 

Nick sat on the hard bench in the train station and watched the people passing him by. The fashion was nearly a century out of date and yet some configurations were oddly timeless. The military uniform - such a bright, vivid shade of blue - peppered the crowd, and the cacophony of voices swelled like a wave as people disembarked from the recently arrived train. It was surreal, like a movie set, but no matter how many times he looked around, there were no edges to this illusion. This was reality, as strange as it seemed. 

This was a world where he did not belong. 

General Roy Mustang was standing at the far end of the station platform, almost completely surrounded by people. That he could see Mustang occasionally through the crowd as he tried shooing soldiers and aides out of his way was somewhat amusing - although the fact remained that he was looking at someone who knew his great-grandfather well enough not to mistake Nick for him on first glance. It was a strange, eerie thing to be here, in this place and time - and he for the life of him could not figure out how time flowed so differently between the two worlds. 

Maybe Takeo was right, maybe the Gate was sentient, and fucking with him specifically. Stranger things had occurred to him personally at this point, he should not be so quick to dismiss the thought. All told though, he could not figure a way for them to undo this, to get back through the Gate opened accidentally without committing a taboo transmutation themselves. Takeo was not even the slightest bit interested in going back, so this was left up to him alone.


	12. unnatural

"Well," Winry Rockbell said as she looked up. "Isn’t THIS a surprise." She wiped her hands on a rag and straightened, eyeing her visitor warily. 

General Mustang, oddly, did not look all that different from the last time she saw him, well over a decade prior. Of course she had seen him in the newspapers and heard him on the radio, grandiose speeches and politics - and listened while the other automail techs who worked in the valley and hung out at the same bars on their downtime debated his policies drunkenly. 

He had never bothered to contact her again once Edward and Alphonse disappeared off into the sunset, and she was okay with this. Winry crossed her arms and stared at him. “To what do I owe the pleasure, General?” 

"I am glad to see that you have not forgotten me, Miss Rockbell," Mustang said, and Winry held up her left hand. 

"Missus, thank you," she said airily. 

"Congratulations are in order then, I see," Mustang murmured, rumbling in that tone of his that always used to set Edward off like dynamite. Winry pulled her other glove off and ignored the comment. 

"Only about nine years tardy, but I suppose I’ll take what I can get," she responded. "What can I do for you, General? It doesn’t appear that you’re in need of my services." 

"Me, personally? No." Mustang held himself stiff, formally. "I just thought I would prepare you, because I do have someone with me that needs your expertise." 

Winry cocked an eyebrow in confusion, and Mustang stepped aside, revealing the strikingly familiar blond who was leaning, exhausted, against the door frame behind him. Winry stared at him and then sighed, running her hand up into her hair in resignation. “You have got to be KIDDING me.”


	13. crowded room

It had taken years for Takeo to get used to maneuvering through the crush of soldiers that seemed to permanently exist in the mess hall - no matter when the rotation changed, the mess was ALWAYS crowded. It was no wonder that the General preferred running down to the canteen to get a sandwich, instead of dining with the common masses. 

It was nice to get out of the office though. Nick was in one of his moods, a foul, sulky thing and he couldn’t seem to escape the Lieutenant Colonel to even go to the range and let off some steam; so Takeo did the next-best thing and removed himself. It had been a particularly brutal week - there would be stretches of time, MONTHS even when the only thing to do was clean up after expired alchemists, paperwork and the occasional collection of notes after the death of older alchemists who had no living relatives to pass their research onto. And then, in the span of a week at least three go off their nut - illegal chimeric research, murder, mayhem … stuff that made the stomach turn. 

 

Nick never handled it well. Oh, he was fine in the field, impeccably professional, but the aftermath? He would get into these dark moods and be absolutely insufferable until he had processed the darkness that existed even in this world. It was almost baffling how he had such a hard time dealing with it - but he never let it get in the way of his work, and Takeo understood him well enough to just let it slide. 

For now, though, he needed a break from the confining four walls and Nick, so to the mess it was. Coffee was the true elixir of immortality, and he needed it badly.


	14. cease

It was strangely silent, inside his own head. 

The sound, all of it - the wind whipping through the papers and flipping books off of the desk, rattling curtains and blasting through sheets and Takeo’s yells - screams, really - all of it gone, in an absolute silence that was more unsettling than the cacophony before it. 

The blood was smeared on the palm of his right hand, it had been bleeding still until just a moment ago, until the blue light lit red and everything else went white. 

He had not even bothered to ask what the transmutation circle did - a foolish thought, both in form and practice - why would he have bothered, he couldn’t have known that it was going to work! That the lines lit white like a LED light and Takeo’s crow of excitement, and hadn’t he been swept along in the sheer jubilation? This thing, this fictional thing was real and in that moment there was unbridled joy. 

And now he was here, in the nothingness that spanned eternity. 

The black hand caressed his cheek, coming from behind - a gentle touch, almost like his mother’s - and then he panicked, and turned about like he should have all along. 

It was an obsidian monolith, the black doors cracked just so, and more hands were coming for him even now. He staggered back and almost tripped over his own feet, clumsy with fear, and one of the hands wrapped around his wrist, its grip like hardened steel. 

No. 

No, this was not happening, this was not real, this was FICTION and FANTASY and the door cracked open just slightly wider, and for the first time he saw the eyes. 

Nicholas Elric did not even have time to scream before the darkness swallowed him.


	15. we are

The sun was bright high above. Nick slung his satchel on the sand, next to where Takeo was lying, both of his arms folded over his face. “Are you dead?” Nick asked, nudging his friend in the ribs with a boot none-too-gently. 

"Yes," Takeo replied without lifting his arms. 

"You realize I’m not hauling your carcass to civilization. I WILL leave you to the carrion birds," Nick said, dropping to a seated position. He regretted it instantly, the sun-bleached sand was hotter than he expected, and he clambered, off-balance, to his feet. "Fuck, that’s HOT," he complained, and then nudged Takeo in the ribs. "You must be cooking." 

"Not cooking. Dead." 

Nick sighed, and clambered up the trestle to stand on the rail tracks. This hadn’t been his stupid idea, at least, but apparently the village that they needed to get to was on this abandoned rail line. The tracks had degenerated badly over the past few years, and the only way to get to the village was to either wait for someone else to be going there and catch a ride … or walk. 

Through the desert. 

"I sure hope this is worth it to you," Nick said. Takeo muttered something that might have been language, or nonsense, didn’t matter because Nick didn’t really hear it, either way. "What are we looking for?" 

Finally, Takeo lifted his arms, staring straight up at the cloudless blue sky. “An old alchemist - well, the correspondence I dug up calls him a mage. He specializes in fire alchemy.” 

"Because of course he does," Nick sighed. "And there’s a particular reason why you just wouldn’t go to Mustang…?" 

"The General won’t help me." Takeo sat up, sand peppered in his dark hair. "He said that we’re on our own where this is concerned."


	16. umbrella term

"Teenagers," Roy Mustang sighed, and with every syllable it became a greater epithet. "This is why I never had children, you know. They become TEENAGERS." 

Lieutenant Colonel Hawkeye smiled tightly as she met Roy at the door. “Rough day, sir?” 

"With every breath," he shuffled through the door to his office and she shut it firmly behind him, watching as Roy moved a little stiffly. His coat went on the hook as always, and he groaned, one hand on the small of his back. “I am too old for this shit, Lieutenant Colonel.” 

With the door closed and their privacy intact, Riza’s strict expression softened slightly. “You know, if you want, Jean and I can take them off your hands for a few days.” 

"I wouldn’t ask you to do that," Roy said, but he smiled in return, a genuine smile he saved only for his most trusted friends. "Besides, they’re gone now, off to the south in search of … well to tell you the truth, I’m not entirely sure. But they’re out of my hair for a few weeks, and I have to hope that together they can show more restraint than Fullmetal ever did." 

"Speaking of which," Riza pulled a file from the folders she habitually carried with her. "Were you aware of this?" 

Roy arched his eyebrow as she handed him the folder. When he flipped it open, he heaved another sigh. “No. I wasn’t aware that Takeo had filed to take the State Alchemist examination.”

"That’s what I thought," Riza said. "You’ll try to talk him out of it, I imagine?" 

Roy placed the file on his desk and rubbed his hand over his face. “Teenagers,” he said illustratively again. “Fullmetal was trouble, but his brother kept him tempered. These two just encourage each other.”


	17. bystander

The rubber band pinged past Talvi’s nose, but it did not complete its journey - in mid-air the band caught aflame, and nothing but ashes fell to the floor. 

The Lieutenant stood in the door, one hand on the doorknob, while Nick clapped enthusiastically. “You are getting better at that every day,” he called over to Takeo, who was still seated behind his own desk. “Excellent shot!” 

Takeo pushed his glasses up, a little flush with the compliment. “I’ve been practicing,” he said. “Since my circle is different, I have to manipulate the energy just a bit differently, it’s been throwing my reaction time off.” 

Talvi sighed deeply, and closed the door behind her. “Don’t you two chuckleheads have any real work to do?” She smacked the bottoms of Nick’s military boots, which were propped up on his desk, leaving clumps of dirt on the blotter. 

"Work," Nick folded his arms behind his head and looked upside down at the Lieutenant as she walked to her own desk. He glanced over at Takeo, who did have something open, and a pen in his hand. "Work, what work?" 

"Work," Talvi repeated, and dropped several folders on Nick’s desk. "Remember, that thing that you get paid for, not lounging around on the military’s time?" 

Nick shrugged loosely. “I do the work Mustang gives me. Paperwork? Me and paperwork, we don’t get along too well.” He waved his right hand in the air, the overhead light glinting off the polished metal. He picked up another rubberband. “Hey, Tak, comin at’ya!” 

Talvi snatched it out of the air as it barely left Nick’s fingertips. “Hey!” 

"Work!" She slammed her hand down on the folders. "I am not your mother! These casefile reports are due before lunch today, you will work on them or ELSE."


	18. better than

Takeo looked up, over his book. Nick didn’t have to accompany him to the library, but he did all the same. He was sitting opposite Takeo at a table, chin in his shiny new metal hand, a pencil in his left hand as he doodled designs on scrap paper. 

If he moved too much, Nick would realize that Takeo was watching him, and scrap the paper. Without moving enough to see, though, Takeo knew what Nick was doodling. 

Transmutation circles. 

For someone who professed to hate alchemy as much as he did, Nick sure did not know how to give it up. It was a little disheartening; for all his study and research nothing could make up for the fact that the alchemy seemed to be ingrained into Nick’s very genes. Nick was better than he was at it, and Nick would always BE better. 

Well, maybe not always. 

It was an encouraging thought. Takeo glanced back down at the book before him. When they had gone through the Gate - he still had nightmares, that was two years ago now and he would still wake in a cold sweat - he hadn’t escaped entirely unscathed. It had taken his mind and emptied it out, filling his brain to the brim with all sorts of broken bits of alchemical lore and arcane knowledge - but it was missing so much. So many connections he did not have, and he had to read until he found them. Once he found them, once all the broken jigsaw puzzle pieces fit together again he would be practically unstoppable. 

Until that point, though? He had to study, and study everything. 

Nick looked up, and then Takeo grinned at his friend, caught. After a long moment’s hesitation Nick shook his head and laughed at Takeo.


	19. duke it out

Takeo dropped into a crouch beside Nick, who was laying spreadeagled on the floor with a shocked expression on his face. “Man,” he said. “You DESERVED that.” 

Nick let out a squeaking sound as he tried to suck oxygen into his bruised lungs. 

"I’m just disappointed I didn’t get to thrash you first.” Takeo propped his elbow on his knee and put his chin in his hand, grinning at his friend. Nick narrowed his eyes at Takeo and attempted to sit up. When this failed, he just flopped back down and inhaled again. 

"Screw you, Tak," Nick said finally. "You couldn’t land a punch if your life depended on it." 

"Well, if my LIFE depended on it," Takeo said, "I wouldn’t be punching. That’s what the gloves are for." He poked Nick’s arm, realized it was the automail, and poked his side instead. "So do I get to know what you said to Talvi? I want to avoid your fate." 

Nick turned his head away and glared at the nearest object, which happened to be a tree. Takeo raised both eyebrows, unable to help smiling still. “Dude, you have such a crush on her.” 

Nick’s face flushed red, and he turned and glared at Takeo. “I do NOT.” 

"Yeah, you just keep lying to yourself." Takeo stood up, and then offered both his hands to Nick. "C’mon, you’re covered in grass stains and it’s only lunch. I bet we can transmute the stains off but I need to look at my notes first." 

Nick ignored the offered hands. “I do not have a crush on the Lieutenant,” he said stiffly, and rolled over onto his side, pushing himself into a sitting position. “Stop projecting your crushes on me, dumbass.” 

"Hey," Takeo said, insulted. "I’m not the one who’s projecting, here."


	20. no respect

It was weird, this library. Nick walked along the shelves slowly, the fingers of his left hand tracing the spines of the books at his hip. He wasn’t really looking for any book in particular, just taking in the silent, musty atmosphere of the towering shelves. 

He had never been a great fan of libraries - born into a world where technology meant instant access to the answers for questions you hadn’t even dreamt yet meant that research, reading through great old musty books seemed a waste of time and resources. If it hadn’t been converted to digital, it had no value. 

But a book was timeless. Digital media, digital storage decayed. It had to be coded and re-coded, lest the knowledge locked within be forever lost. Books could fall victim to fire and floodwater but still they remained, timeless. Nick paused, his fingers on the spine of a book that might be centuries old, and inhaled deeply. 

How could he have ever thought otherwise? 

Then there was also the fact that here, only fifteen years had passed. That there were still librarians employed here who hesitated when they saw Nick go by, anticipating something that never came. It was strangely powerful, in its own way. Nick had never gotten along well with his great-grandfather, not since he was very young, and it was now a regret that he carried. But how was he to know, that every story he had been told was the truth? Even his own parents didn’t believe. 

Nick pulled the book off of the shelf. The title was in characters he did not recognize but felt familiar, and as he paged through the book he felt the slightest, strangest sense of connection. A library was a place meant to connect the present to the past.


	21. invasion

Winry heard the clatter from her workshop and sighed, pulling her welding goggles up and settling them over the bandanna that kept her hair back. She waited a moment, listening for the sound of further destruction, and was rewarded with a pained groan emanating from somewhere outside the door. 

Winry opened the door, it was a huge, heavy old thing with no window - and surveyed her victim. Nicholas Elric lay prone on the ground, a tray upside down just out of reach, a bowl on his head, and broken dishes scattered around him. “I thought I told you to stay in bed,” Winry said, one hand on the door’s frame. 

Nick pushed the bowl back and glared up at her. “I thought I’d be safe from tripping over fake legs walking down a single hallway,” he retorted, and Winry scowled at him. 

"Call my automail fake again, just one more time," she threatened. "You need to get back to bed, you should be resting still." 

"All I’ve done is rest." Nick pushed himself into a kneeling position, and then lifted the bowl off of his head. The shirt he was wearing was one of Jack’s, and it was too big. The collar sagged down toward his empty shoulder, showing the fresh bandages that had been wrapped only this morning. "I can’t sit still any longer, if I sit still all I can think about is the pain." 

Winry crouched down beside Nick, righting the tray and picking up pieces of shattered dishware. “It’s not just to keep you still,” she said. “If you overtax your body you could get really sick.” She placed the back of her hand on his forehead and Nick tried to jerk his head away. “You’re already warm, Nick. You can’t risk yourself like this.”


	22. gifted

Nick lifted one finger when Takeo opened his mouth. “If the words ‘watch this’ are about to pass through your lips again, might I remind you that your eyebrows have just now grown back?” 

Takeo scowled and rubbed his hand over his forehead, as if to check that his eyebrows were still there. “That wasn’t entirely my fault,” he complained. 

Nick finally looked up from the newspaper he was reading. “Takeo, you set your own hair on fire. Whatever it is you want me to watch I’ll do it from here.” 

Takeo propped his hands on his hips and glowered at Nick, who shuffled the sections and opened a new one. He looked down at his boots - not quite as polished as the military boots were supposed to be, but not as defiantly scuffed as Nick’s - and then back up again, brow furrowed. 

He raised his hand and snapped his fingers. 

Nick jolted backwards at the small fireball that erupted scant inches from his nose. He flailed backwards, newspaper pages going everywhere and the very tips of his bangs singed. “Wh-wh,” Nick sputtered, fanning in front of his face angrily. “What the HELL, TAK-“ 

Takeo raised his hands, this time both of them poised to snap. “I said,” he said calmly. “Watch this.” 

This time, when he snapped, both of the flames - tiny little sparks of light - rebounded against each other in midair. The flames reacted to each other, twisting in the air in a vine-like pattern, growing upward until the small conflagration fizzled out, sending sooty smoke to coat the ceiling. 

"See," Takeo said, glancing at the gloves he was wearing. "I told you I’d figure it out, eventually. I even used my own transmutation circle, not Mustang’s." He grinned. "I’ll master fire alchemy yet."


	23. reeds

It was far more peaceful down on the grassy slope that led to the river - plus it had the added bonus of being out of the line of sight of most pedestrians. Nick sighed deeply head pillowed on his arms, and stared at the bright blue sky above him. 

How many times had he done this, walking home from school? He was in no rush to get home, ever since his grandfather had been moved in with them Nick spent as little time at home as possible. The man unsettled him greatly, and Nick sincerely did not like being alone with him. 

So he dallied. He would stay late after soccer club had ended, or spend the afternoon dozing on the riverbank under the bright summer sun. Anything to avoid going home. 

Nick closed his eyes and sighed. 

It was a strange feeling of nostalgia, the sound of the wind pushing through the long grasses at the edge of the water. It made him feel the slightest bit lonely, for something that he could no longer have. 

When the shadow passed over him, Nick opened his eyes and squinted at the familiar blue uniform. “Thought I would find you here,” Talvi Leis said. She had taken off the stiff outer jacket, and was wearing a loose white tee shirt with the bottom half of her uniform. “Takeo thought you would be at the food stalls.” 

"Takeo thinks with his stomach sometimes," Nick said. 

"All of the time." Talvi sat herself on the grass beside him, and plucked a long blade of grass to chew. She leaned back on one hand and looked up at the sky, same as Nick had been doing. "You come here often, don’t you?" 

Nick sighed deeply. “It reminds me of home,” he said simply.


	24. leap year

It was amazing how much could change in just a few years’ time. Roy Mustang looked up from the report he had open on his desk and smiled, just slightly. Nick was leaning over Takeo’s desk, explaining something with his hands, the overhead light glinting off of the freshly polished automail. Takeo was arguing back, his glare directed straight at Nick, arms crossed over his chest defiantly. 

They were not children any longer - not that they really were when they had stumbled into Roy’s office that first time, helped along by MPs unnerved at the memory of sunshine-bright hair and wicked amber eyes. But they had grown up strong and solid, and Roy had the feeling that if Edward could see what a man Nick had grown into he would be proud. 

Nick straightened and gave an exaggerated sigh, running a hand through his bangs, brushing them back into his scalp - but he was smiling helplessly. Despite Takeo’s dour expression, a grin tugged at the corner of his mouth as well. 

The telephone rang on Roy’s desk, and he answered it without looking away. “Elric!” Roy barked and Nick looked over at him, eyebrows raised curiously as Roy scribbled something down on a loose sheet of paper. 

"What’s up, boss?" Nick asked, and Roy handed off the note. "Got a live one?" 

Roy nodded. “Can you handle it?” 

Nick remembered even to throw a halfhearted salute before turning on his heel, reading the note Roy had written as his voice cut across the room, sharp and commanding. “Grab your gear; Takeo, do NOT forget your gloves this time, I mean it - Talvi, you’re on driving duty, we’ve got two dead State Alchemists and more illegal chimera loose than you can shake a stick at. Let’s go, people!”


	25. bird cage

The restrictions were there, unspoken. You had freedom until you did not, you could go anywhere you wanted except you couldn’t leave. Takeo didn’t seem to mind, of course he didn’t - he had an entire library’s knowledge at his full disposal, books and words and languages that didn’t exist to them, all new information and new ideas and new knowledge. Nicholas didn’t care about that, he hadn’t cared since that first moment staggering out of the transmutation circle. The only thing he cared about was getting HOME. 

It was a quest that Takeo was supposed to share. They didn’t belong here in this strange other-world, in a land of fiction-made-real, where alchemy (née: magic) was the rule of the day and he feared he had already lost his best friend into the depths of those books. Takeo didn’t seem to care that they were being treated as criminals, as prisoners of a military that they shouldn’t trust - he was too wrapped up in everything else. It was Nick who was pacing the rooms and hallways, Nick who was watching the armed guards watch them with a look of open defiance, Nick who stared down Mustang who after a moment simply refused to meet his eye. 

(He hadn’t quite worked around Mustang’s refusal to meet his glare until he caught his own reflection in the glass and remembered how his mother would compare his pictures to those of his grandfather in his youth and very suddenly Nick felt more ill than ever. He was NOT his grandfater, and Mustang and everyone around him would do well to remember that.) 

It was a very quick and quiet realization. 

If Nicholas Elric wanted to get home, he was going to have to find his way by himself.


	26. you told

"You know, Talvi likes you," Takeo said, after waiting to make sure Nick was taking a large bite of the sandwich he was holding. 

Nick’s jaw snapped together so hard Takeo heard his teeth clack. It really shouldn’t be this easy to needle him but it was, it always was - and Takeo watched his friend go from red to purple to an alarming shade of blue that had him reaching over the table to slap at his back. After a minute of coughing and choking (and drawing stares from other, more properly dressed grunts at the other tables) Nick finally swallowed that mouthful of sandwich and sucked air into his poor abused maw. “WHAT?!” 

It was a fairly well-known secret that Nick was gay. Takeo knew, of course - although Nick had kept it from him for years they finally had it out because Nick apparently didn’t trust his best friend enough to confide in him - but most other people didn’t. Talvi most certainly did not. “It’s pretty obvious,” Takeo said, as Nick scrubbed at his mouth with the back of his hand. “Just from the way she looks at you-“ 

"Dude, she would break me in half and use me as a toothpick given half the chance," Nick said. "I don’t think that’s the same thing as affection." 

"I dunno," Takeo scooted his fork around the plate, chasing after some stray beans. "I really think she does." 

"Whatever." Nick placed both his hands on the table. "Regardless, I’ve got a boyfriend. She’ll just have to deal." 

Takeo’s eyebrow arched. “A boyfriend? When did THIS happen?” 

Nick flushed a solid red - there was never anything halfhearted about his expressions. “Recently, and no, you haven’t met him. He’s not in the military … in fact, he hates it.”


	27. in the mix

"This was a bad idea," Takeo said, and Nick smirked and clapped him on the arm. 

"At least it’s not one of YOUR bad ideas," Nick said. "Your bad ideas are catastrophic, mine are just in the pursuit of getting you laid." He leaned forward at the bar, hoping to catch the bartender’s attention and get them some refills. It was definitely different, not being in a military bar, where blue was the ever-present fashion - and thankfully Takeo had changed out of his own uniform before Nick dragged him out of the military dorms by the shirt collar. There was little to identify them as military - neither of them had gone through the Academy, and even if he WAS on a military paycheck, Nick wouldn’t count himself among their ranks anyway. 

"I do not need to get laid," Takeo growled at him in a hushed tone. Nick half-turned and gave Takeo the flattest, most disbelieving look he had in his repertoire, and Takeo did him the courtesy of actually flushing red. "E-even if I did, I don’t need YOUR help to do so!" 

"You’ve had exactly one girlfriend since we got here, and I’m betting you didn’t get to second base." 

"Better than you!" 

Nick leaned in to Takeo, a dangerous smile on his face. “I don’t want a GIRLfriend,” he said, and Takeo swallowed and looked away. He clearly still wasn’t entirely comfortable with that revelation, which Nick had gone through the spectrum of being offended and now was just content to bring it up at every possible time specifically to make Takeo uncomfortable. After all, what were best friends for? 

And what did a guy have to do to get a refill in this joint? Nick leaned over the bar again and glared at the bartender.


End file.
